Supercute!

The door slams and there she is—Lucy Lux, platinum hair catching every ray of light. She pauses, taking the room in like she owns it, and the air shifts around her. She slides her hand beneath the thin strap of her top, rolls it down one shoulder, then the other. Her bra follows. Her breasts spring free, nipples already tight, rising with each quick breath. The camera lingers on the swell of them, the gentle bounce as she kicks off her heels and crawls onto the sheets. She stretches out on her back, thighs parting, knees drawing up. Her fingers trail down her stomach, dip beneath the waistband of her tiny panties, and push them aside. She is wet already, the shine on her fingertips proof enough. She strokes, slow and deliberate, circling the swollen bud, spreading herself wider so nothing is hidden. A soft gasp leaves her lips. She works faster, hips lifting, chasing the rush. Every little sound she makes cuts straight through the silence. When she comes, it is sudden and sharp, her whole body locking before melting back into the mattress, breath shaky, fingers glistening, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of her mouth.